


A dream

by SmallHuman



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Come Swallowing, Cyborgs, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Forced Masturbation, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Jedi, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Licking, M/M, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Robot Kink, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Submission, Teasing, Thighs, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23326279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallHuman/pseuds/SmallHuman
Summary: Obi Wan has been having fantasies about General Grievous. Grievous knows this, and goes to his room to make his dreams come true-- kind of.
Relationships: Grievous | Qymaen jai Sheelal/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	A dream

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very deep in the lore so I'm kind of playing fast and loose with canon here; hopefully it's plausible? Please let me know if you enjoyed it, at any rate. I did kinda fudge all the Force stuff, but I had to kinda make it up to make the whole premise work.

This was technically a diplomacy meeting, all truce, yada yada, but General Grievous had business to attend to. He kept a close eye on Obi Wan as he slipped from the room afterwards. The jedi slunk down hallways back to his room, into less and less populated areas of the compound where they stayed. Grievous assumed Kenobi knew he was there; it wasn’t that easy to sneak up on someone so in tune with the force, especially in such an otherwise meditatively calm situation, and especially with an eight foot tall metal body that rasped in each breath. 

Kenobi turned before he reached his door. They stood at opposite ends of an empty hall. 

“What do you want, cyborg?” Obi Wan called.

Grievous stepped forward, his pause only momentary. 

“I have matters to discuss with you, jedi,” he responded. Internally, he was equal parts disgusted and amused by what had been occurring recently; with the jedi in relatively close proximity, he’d been accidently transmitting certain dreams via the force to the object of said dreams. 

“You could have brought this up at one of the meetings,” Obi Wan said, crossing his arms. Putting on a show of how disaffected and professional he was, just for Grievous. 

“It’s of a more… sensitive nature.” Grievous stopped a few feet from the other. “May I come in?”

Obi Wan quirked an eyebrow. “Do you take me for a fool? There may be a truce, but I’m not inviting an enemy into my bedroom.”

I’m sure the thought has never crossed your mind, Grievous thought mockingly. 

“If I were to be dishonourable, you have your lightsabers, and I come unarmed.” Grievous held out his hands to display that fact.

“Look, I’m tired,” Kenobi said, unlocking his door. “We can have your discussion tomorrow after lunch, in a neutral public location.” He went inside, not turning away from the cyborg as he did so. 

He closed the door, but not fast enough. Before it swung shut entirely, General Grievous barreled into it and into the room, grabbing the jedi before he could react. In the split second before Obi Wan started struggling, Grievous had slammed the door behind them and was shoving him towards a sofa on the far side of the room. 

In the next second, the General’s enhanced senses caught notice of a lightsaber flying to the jedi’s outstretched hand. His arms had already split and it was a simple matter to catch Kenobi’s wrist as he tried to swing the saber, then deactivate it. Grievous pushed him into the couch with little effort.

He straddled Obi Wan, leaning over him. Obi Wan’s breath hitched, unnoticeable unless you knew to look for it. 

“I’ve seen your accursed force dreams, Jedi,” Grievous rumbled, something like mocking accusation in his voice. “Your thoughts drift unwittingly as you sleep. I know how you yearn for me. I know how you moan my name at night. I know how you touch yourself for me. I know how you crave for me to ruin you. I know how desperate you get just thinking of me.” With each word he moved a little closer until their faces were centimetres apart, their bodies almost but not quite touching. Obi Wan realized he was unable to deny it. He just stared up at Grievous in shock, blush burning across his face. 

“I’m not, uh-” he finally managed, breaking his gaze in shame, acutely aware he was visibly hard under his robes. 

Grievous grabbed his jaw in a flash, cold metal claws digging into his skin. “Look at me,” he said in an oddly calm voice. 

Obi Wan met his eyes again. Grievous leaned back, still looming over the jedi. 

“Touch yourself,” he said, voice quiet but golden eyes glaring. 

Obi Wan searched his gaze for some sign he might be joking. The metal hand sliding down to his throat convinced him, and he reached hesitantly beneath his robes and waistband to lightly stroke himself. 

Grievous dropped the hand from his throat while his other metal claws pulled Kenobi’s clothes away, leaving him feeling awfully exposed, but undeniably aroused. It certainly wasn’t how he’d ever pictured this going, but the fact that anything remotely like this was occurring at all sent his feelings reeling. 

The cyborg stared at Obi Wan’s dick as he started jerking off faster, just long enough to make him self conscious before returning his piercing gaze to the jedi’s face. Everything the general did made him just a little uncomfortable, calculatedly so. The humiliation just made him more aroused.

“Are you picturing me getting you off?” Grievous rumbled into his ear, leaning close enough that his faceplate brushed Obi Wan’s cheek. “Do you wish those hands were mine?”

“Y-yes,” he hissed out, getting close. 

“And your precious jedi code… where is that right now, hmm?” 

Obi Wan didn’t respond, turning his face away as his cheeks burned even brighter. Grievous coughed briefly. 

“Cum for me, jedi, cum for the monster who’s killed so many of your friends,” he spat when he could breathe again. 

“Help me, please, let me touch you,” he begged, reaching for the general’s pelvic plates, his legs, anything, with a tentative hand, but he kept just out of reach.

“I won’t have your dirty jedi hands soiling me,” Grievous spoke, “You whore. All your little friends think you’re so pure, trust you so blindly. Yet here you are, begging and squirming beneath their most feared psychopathic monster. You’re the one others are supposed to look up to? You’re pathetic.”

With a wordless cry Obi Wan came. It painted Grievous’s inner thighs where he straddled him. 

The general maintained his position while Obi Wan’s breathing slowed and he looked up at him with confusion and some unreadable mix of organic emotions. 

“Now you get to clean up the mess you’ve made,” Grievous growled. 

He picked the jedi up by the tangled front of his robes and carried him the few feet to the bed. He dropped him there unceremoniously and sat down against the headboard himself, legs spread apart and dripping Obi Wan’s seed onto the sheets. 

“Go on. And savor it, because this is all you’ll ever get from me.”

“Yes, master,” he said, ducking his head quickly. The word had just slipped out, and he almost cringed at himself, but Grievous seemed pleased by it. 

The general’s large metal hands pulled Obi Wan’s head between his legs. The jedi began to slowly lick his own cum from the cyborg’s cold thighs. 

Grievous could still feel things. Not the way he used to, but various sensors wired into his brain that could report all sorts of sensations, and he’d found it a suitable approximation of real feeling. 

The jedi was obviously trying to make it pleasurable for him; a deft tongue explored the gaps where plates met, running up and down grooves filled with sensory receptors. Much to Grievous’s discomfort, it was rather effective, and he focused on keeping his raspy breathing level. It was his turn to pretend to be unaffected. 

All the cum had been wiped away at this point, and Grievous should’ve stopped him then, but Obi Wan’s head strayed further up between his legs and it took effort not to react. 

“That’s enough, scum,” he managed to say after a few moments, covering a break in his voice with a fit of coughing, and pushing Obi Wan away. Grievous scrambled off the bed and did his best to look menacing while trying to compose himself internally. 

Obi Wan was breathing hard, face flushed and still looking confused. He sat on the bed on his knees, looking around like he thought someone might see them. 

“Are you proud of yourself, jedi?” Grievous asked, stepping forward to lean imposingly over him. 

“Well, no, but… is there any chance this could… happen again, maybe?” he trailed off, looking utterly ashamed of himself. 

“No.”

Obi Wan looked distraught. 

General Grievous laughed, low and dark.

“Keep your force dreams to yourself or you’ll be begging for your life, not for me to fuck you,” he warned and swept away. 

. . . 

The rest of that peace council was very awkward, at least for Obi Wan. He was suddenly unable to talk to a certain someone for reasons unclear to everyone else. General Grievous, for his part, barely glanced at him, apparently untouched by any of it. But every time the general looked his way, the jedi master had to hide his sudden arousal. He was equal parts relieved and saddened when the meetings finally concluded and everyone went their separate ways, but he knew now, maybe more than ever, that things could never work out like he fantasized. The tease, the taste of what could have been, just stung, but he savored the memory.


End file.
